


Hurricane Drunk

by GirlDressedInBlack



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 08:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15115715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlDressedInBlack/pseuds/GirlDressedInBlack
Summary: The Mistress is fed up with being left behind so she's going to get as drunk as she pleases and not think- not think. Not think.





	Hurricane Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> Another for the party.

The Mistress laughs, all dressed up in black, sparkling, wrapped up in the machinations of her latest plan.

Namely to have a few drinks and start a talk with the disgruntled looking figure in the corner who she thinks starts the Ashkibeck Revolution.

Or she would have but all she can sense is the Doctor, happy.

The Time Lady turns, grin already on her face despite having no drinks in hand.

It falls, shatters in her mind with a sound like smashed glass that ricochets through her brain as she looks and sees.

She weaves backwards again into the mass of people, disappearing to the bar and slamming a hand down.

The Mistress meets the eyes of the bartender who raises an eyebrow, unconcerned or most likely unknowing of who she is and the threat she could present if she wished.

"Your strongest." She says, short.

He nods, does not question and that- that is good. He understands she thinks, maybe.

As he pours the Mistress lays her face in her gloved palm.

That woman.

As soon as she saw her she knew.

That's the Doctor's wife.

One of them anyway.

And more than that Missy knew not to disturb them- she could never do that to him.

Still it stings, the way he seemed so comfortable with her, so in love. She may have teased him about his pets but those two are real- they have that thing which the Master has with the Doctor and heavens forbid she would ever mess with that!

She knows that woman's name but does not say it or think it because she is not for the Mistress to know of and so she refuses to know, lets them be happy as they both deserve. She knows their tale.

Still.

It hurts.

The Mistress chucks back the drink when poured and requests another. The bartender does not blink, only raises the bottle in question with hard green arms, covered in carapace and rough, scarred with a few deeper gashes.

"Yeah. That seems about right." She says, somewhat soft, not feeling the need for violence and destruction right now when such a blow has been dealt to her.

The Mistress takes the bottle and drinks it away. It blurs her eyes as she spies on the two- at least it's the thing she will blame because it burns as much as the back of her throat and spends her minds spiralling in the same way.

He kisses her and they leave and the bartender takes the bottle from her and offers her another drink, clear and sweet and soothing as she swallows it unthinkingly.

She pays because she doesn't care for trouble today and the bartender asks if she'll be alright. His face is flesh, a deeper green than the shell he wears and the Mistress doesn't smile but looks into his eyes, mind dancing to drunkeness and pain.

She tells him she will be and it's a lie and he sees it so Missy takes him home and he is sweet and gentler than his appearance suggests but it doesn't do anything to stop the ache in her hearts for a single entity who tonight is not hers.


End file.
